


Hurt

by Sarcasmcat



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcasmcat/pseuds/Sarcasmcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the loss to the Rangers Sasha needs to hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> Something that just kind of popped into my head.

Fingers digging into Alex's shoulder Sasha can't help the sound he makes when three fingers press against his prostate with unerring accuracy. It hurts, the press with so little prep but it's okay because he needs it hurt, especially after this last game.

He wants it to hurt like the loss had, sharp and bitter, dragging at his skin.

They had come so far, fought and won against the odds and to lose in such a way, when neither of them had been playing at their best.

Alex's other hand is tight around his wrists, holding them to the pillows and Sasha doesn't struggle against the grip even as Alex teases him with alternating pressure. His cock is hard, high and tight against his stomach, almost painful and Sasha knows relief isn't going to be coming any time soon.

Alex is in the kind of mood where he's content to hold him on the edge for as long as he can, eyes hooded and inscrutable, an aura of darkness clinging to him. Sasha's grown used to it, the way his lover changes after the loss of an important game, the way Alex seems to disappear, to be replaced by this man with the familiar face that Sasha has loved for so long.

The grip on his wrist tightens and Sasha spreads his legs wider when a fourth finger teases the furl of muscle spread by Alex's fingers. At this point he'll take anything to ease the pain, to blacken out the last hours. If he could find his words he might convince Alex to press his hand deeper, to take them both to the edge but everything seems to have deserted him, leaving behind a whimpering pile of flesh, held at the mercy of the man half spread over him.

Sasha loses track of time, breathing hard as Alex spreads him open, fingers fucking into him on just the edge of pleasure. His body feels overly full, stretching him to the breaking point and he wants to come, to stop thinking.

The fingers slide from his body and he shivers and moans, feeling suddenly empty and it's so much worse than the pressure of Alex's fingers filling him. There's a hand on his hip and he shifts, breath catching at the hot pressure of a cock against his entrance and then Alex is sliding into him, a little burn that ricochets up his spine, making his eyes fall closed.

There's no finesse, no sweetness to the thrusts that rock his body. Alex is punishing him as much as himself, for the game. He arches into every thrust, ignoring the knot in his lower back or his thighs; the way he knows moving is going to be a special hell tomorrow because he deserves this. Deserves it for letting the team down, for letting Alex down.

He wasn't good enough in the game. If he could have just gotten one puck into the fucking net it wouldn't have ended the way it had, with them going home, heads hanging low after managing to defeat the defending Champions, only to lose to the fucking, god-forsaken Rangers.

Alex comes with a bitten off grunt, fingers digging into his wrists before slumping against him, breath hot against his throat. His cock is trapped between them, achingly hard but Sasha doesn't make any attempts to move Alex along. It's not his decision to make, on whether or not he gets any relief.

Teeth dig into his collarbone and he throws his head back as they move along the sharp ridge, leaving behind a trail of fire that he's sure will turn into bruises and it's a good thing their season is over because he'd never be able to explain them away.

Alex slips from his body and Sasha is resigned to not coming when fingers slide back into his body, eased by lube and Alex's seed. His hips jerk upward and he can't look away from Alex's face, eyes blown with desire, face set in unremitting lines as he teases him again, working his prostate ruthlessly.

“Sasha.”

His name is benediction and chastisement all at once and he bites his lower lip, head falling back as orgasm slams through him.

It almost hurts and he comes back down with Alex pressing against his side, kissing him and muttering endearments and Sasha kind of hates himself because he wasn't good enough for Alex tonight.


End file.
